


Anything, Everything

by jumpinglamps



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Anal Sex, Eating out, Finger Fucking, M/M, Mild Blood Drinking, Praise Kink if you squint, Shibari, Vampire!Yuri, Vibrators, Yuri spelled with one u, trans!yuuri, v mild dom/sub undertones, vampire!Victor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-18
Updated: 2019-09-18
Packaged: 2020-10-21 10:00:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20691656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jumpinglamps/pseuds/jumpinglamps
Summary: Victor and Yuri have a preplanned morning of fun.This was originally written for the YOI Shibari zine.Do not repost my content anywhere, including unofficial 3rd party apps.





	Anything, Everything

Yuri stretches on his yoga mat, enjoying the slow, gentle pops of his joints, the light burn in his muscles. He’s always been flexible, even before he was turned some 300 years ago, before vampirism dulled quite a bit of his capacity to feel bodily pain. He can stretch himself further now than he ever could as a human, could turn his body into a pretzel if the desire struck him. Now though, he focuses on making his body loose with slow, lazy stretches that burn deep in his bones. He needs his muscles to be relaxed for his plans with Victor.

Outside the living room window, the night is slowly fading into faint streaks of orange and pink. Across the room, Victor is cooing at Makkachin, wrestling with her over her favorite stuffed bunny. Their eyes meet occasionally as Yuri bends into poses that arc his back, push out his ass. And maybe he pulled out the tight-fit yoga pants from his drawer on purpose, just for this reason. Maybe he wants to see that hunger in Victor’s eyes, gleaming red and dark, glued to Yuri’s ass as if it were an apple for him to sink his teeth into.

Victor’s game with Makkachin ends as she trots off to her water bowl and Victor rises from his spot on the floor, makes a slow approach in Yuri’s direction. Yuri relaxes into a downward dog position and feels Victor’s fingertips whisper up the back of his thigh.

“It’s almost time, love.”

Yuri shivers—it’s too soon to already feel this warm under his clothes. He peaks under his arm and watches Victor’s hip-hugging sweat pants fall to the floor, his shirt soon after. What little blood is left in his body seems torn between rushing to his head and his groin as he stays in downward dog a bit too long, can’t bring himself to move and possibly miss a second of Victor’s ass spilling out the sides of his small black bikini briefs.

And then, with a knowing smirk thrown over his shoulder, Victor disappears behind the bedroom door.

Yuri lets himself down slowly, onto the floor, onto his back. His body feels cold and empty, full of air. His throat is dry, scratchy. It’s a sort of game they like to play from time to time: one denies himself blood for a few days, bringing himself just to the edge of desperation while the other ensures they stay full. And when desperation reaches its peak, they can drink from each other, share life between them. It gives sex an edge that they both enjoy, an intensity, and Yuri loves how close he feels to Victor in those more intense moments.

The sun starts to creep up over the horizon and Yuri decides he’s waited long enough. He rolls up his mat and takes a moment to gently pat a sleeping Makkachin. He pauses in front of the bedroom door. They hadn’t discussed whether or not Yuri would start clothed. On a whim, he makes the decision himself to peel out of his yoga pants and soft t-shirt. Hesitates only the briefest moment before stripping out of his boxer briefs as well. Something about walking into their bedroom completely bare for Victor’s eyes has nerves thrumming low in his belly, and he rushes through the door before he can second guess his decision.

His eyes find the bed first—it's always the first thing he notices, given its size. Victor had insisted on this bed when they moved to the new apartment. It's bigger than any Yuri has ever seen, bigger even than a California King he’d wager. Its fluffy satin comforter is covered with plush white towels, vivid red ropes, a new looking bottle of vanilla scented lube, and a selection of vibrators, ranging in size. They hadn't discussed toys but Yuri’s almost always game for his favorite vibrator. Though he finds himself unsure today. The lack of blood has a chill clinging to his skin, a chill he’d much rather chase away with Victor’s touch, his mouth.

Victor, beautiful Victor draws his attention next. He’s standing, unimposing near the bed, eyes raking over Yuri with a smile warm on his lips. He's waiting still, so Yuri steps closer, closer, a breath away.

Victor smells  _ good.  _ Yuri can smell the blood he's recently drunk as if he’d been doused a floral perfume; heat rolls off Victor’s skin, warming the air, the ghost of his pulse fills the empty spaces their bodies create. It's got his mouth watering, his brain short-circuiting, so he wraps his arms around Victor, takes a moment to ground himself. Victor holds him quietly, presses soft kisses into his hair, his shoulder.

“When you're ready,” Victor’s voice is low by his ear, “stand at the foot of the bed. Take all the time you need.”

And Yuri does. Keeps his arms locked around Victor, breathes in the scent that has his teeth aching, his body quivering. Then, with a deep breath, he steps back. He stands where Victor directed with his feet slightly apart.

Victor approaches this time with feather light touches, hands coasting over skin, a soothing hum on his breath. Touching for the sake of touching. Fingertips smooth warm over his chest, dust around a nipple, his stomach, his hips, his neck. The blood Yuri has left pools between his legs and brings his cock to life—he can feel it pushing up from under its hood.

A hand slips along Yuri’s spine to cup his ass and his breath catches.

“Beautiful, Yuri,” Victor murmurs. He reaches around Yuri to slide the ropes off the bed. They drape around Victor’s shoulders like a loose scarf as he works.

They start at the abdomen, Victor taking his time to let the soft rope caress Yuri’s skin. Like Victor’s fingers just moments ago, they drift and caress, press a little more firmly where they knot together. Victor stays close, seems to get closer with every passing second. It would be so easy to lean forward, to take a bite. Just a shallow one, a taste.

But Yuri stays, keeps his teeth to himself. He clenches his jaw ever so slightly and feels the single fang that always peeks out from under his lip dig into his flesh. It's not enough to draw blood, just satiates the need to  _ bite. _

Victor’s hands never stop moving. They touch each piece of Yuri’s skin just before he’s caressed by rope. Over his shoulders, his chest, his stomach. Then down, between his legs, and Yuri can't help the little whimper that escapes him when Victor brushes his folds, skims around his cock. Then the ropes are set in the wake of those fingers, pressing just enough to keep Yuri’s nerves alight. Victor smiles and kisses his chest.

“On the bed.” Victor helps him lie backward, cradles his head and kisses his nose. Yuri giggles, resists the urge to reach up and touch Victor’s skin. Victor still has work to do, after all.

With gentle fingers, Victor pries Yuri’s hands from where they're twisted into the bedding. He takes a moment to kiss each of Yuri’s fingers, lingers and smiles against the shiny gold ring on his right hand. Then he lowers Yuri’s hands to settle over his stomach and encourages him to clasp them together. Rope weaves loose around his wrists, leaving enough room for Victor to wiggle a couple fingers in alongside the loops. The ties are a bit snugger on his forearms and come together between his arms in thick knots. The ropes are warm, having rested on Victor’s shoulders, a balm to his chills.

Once his arms are carefully rested and relaxed in front of him, Victor turns his attention to Yuri’s legs. They’re folded slowly, heel to thigh, more soft ropes weaving together in intricate loops up to the knee. Victor takes his time with each leg, then pushes them both back so Yuri’s knees are pressed to his chest. He laughs, a little breathless—Victor loves taking advantage of his flexibility.

From this angle, Yuri feels exposed, cool air rushing to meet his bare ass. But the ropes and Victor’s hands keep him settled. A finger ghosts along the bottom of Yuri’s foot just as another wiggles under the rope at Yuri’s crotch and glides upward and the feeling is an electric jolt, coursing quick and sharp up his spine, making him flex against his bindings.

Then it's Victor’s mouth, pressing gently at the lines of rope along his thighs, moving toward his center. A soft kiss pressed into his folds, a wet lick over the rope, then finally, finally Victor’s tongue dips to taste him. One slow drag of tongue, getting firmer as it moves upward until it’s pressing directly on his cock. There it lingers and Victor  _ hums _ .

Yuri’s vibrating, slipping into hazy need as Victor moves back to his thighs, this time scraping with his fangs. He wouldn't—but he does. The tips of his fangs press just enough, at just the right angle to draw a little blood to the surface. It's followed immediately by tongue, both tasting and healing as it moves. Yuri’s vision, his sensations dull until all he can feel is the ache in his fangs, the slow throb between his legs, the quick pounding of Victor’s pulse, beating into him through the tongue flat on his skin.

“…lease, please, Victor, please, Victor…” Yuri didn't expect to feel this desperate so soon. This usually comes after they've played a bit more. But Yuri’s already dangling over that edge, the edge of pain and pleasure, of too much and not enough. It's come quicker every time they play this game, his body seeming to anticipate the blood, the pleasure it’s bound to receive.

“My Yuri is so impatient this morning,” Victor murmurs. He peeks up from his work to rest his chin on Yuri’s shin, a smile dancing in his eyes.

Yuri breathes, can't stop himself from whining, “please?”

Victor hums, his finger tracing little lines along the ticklish underside of Yuri’s foot. His foot twitches under the attention, but the feeling is dim in comparison to his  _ need _ . He tilts his head up to keep Victor in his line of vision, needing him, all of him.

“A taste then?” Victor’s voice is barely above a whisper when he kisses Yuri’s ankle. Slowly, he spreads Yuri’s bound legs until they're flat on the mattress on either side of him. Yuri keeps his gaze on Victor, waiting, wanting. Victor brings a finger to his lips and pricks it on his own fang, then presses it, dripping warm to the seam of Yuri’s mouth. “No biting now.”

The blood in Victor’s veins bursts hot and sweet on Yuri’s tongue as he holds the tip of that finger between his lips. He sucks, making an effort to keep his teeth from touching flesh. The near obscene sounds of his own wet slurping ring in his ears but he can't bring himself to care; the embarrassment that usually accompanies his feeding seems to be missing entirely. Victor tastes amazing, he always does. It's not nearly enough to be considered a drink; the little drops that fall on Yuri’s tongue dissolve before they can slide down his throat. Victor pushes his finger in deeper and Yuri’s moan is high-pitched, eyes slipping shut. Oh so gently, the finger moves in and out of his mouth, dragging that hint of blood up and down the length of his tongue.

It's magic; Yuri could do this and nothing but this for the next 30 years if Victor’s blood would last that long, could sustain himself on the gentle taste of this finger, fucking his mouth.

And too soon, it's gone. Yuri tries to chase it with his tongue, but the ropes and Victor’s weight keep him on his back. The wound on Victor’s fingertip is already sealed shut, healed by Yuri’s saliva by the time it hits Yuri’s throat and draws a line down to his collarbone.

“Now,” Victor slides his hands down, under Yuri’s bound arms, tickling over his stomach, across his open thighs, then possessive over Yuri’s throbbing center, “my turn.”

A pillow and some towels slide under Yuri’s hips, forcing his legs to overextend outward just enough to feel a slight burn. Yuri sighs, feels a bit more present, a bit less hazy.

Victor’s hands fall on either side of Yuri’s hips, their eyes locking together. “How is it, Yuri?”

Yuri smiles, wiggles a bit, “Good, green, good.”

Victor kisses his nose with a laugh, “Good.”

Then Victor is on him again, sucking rough at his neck (Yuri ignores the voice in his brain whining for Victor’s teeth to sink into him, there, or there,  _ right there _ ). Victor’s teeth tease, but nothing more—Yuri frankly can't give Victor any blood until he's drunk a little more.

Soft lips latch around a nipple, teeth sharp and gentle, pressing just enough to tickle. Yuri writhes, the soft ropes holding him steady as he giggles and gasps, Victor’s ministrations staying somewhere between sensual and ticklish. One of Victor's hands ghosts his rib cage, just where he knows Yuri is most sensitive while the other rubs, steady and soft between his legs. Yuri manages to open his eyes a sliver and Victor’s face is so close to his own, eyes unwavering on him. His attentiveness is sweet, but it also makes him squirm. Victor’s gaze is a physical weight; in it, Yuri can read the things he still wants to do, the things he wants to see Yuri respond to. Victor licks his own lips and Yuri follows the motion with a quick dart of his eyes.

The blunt silicone head of a small, inactive vibrator replaces Victor’s fingers. “Okay?” He whispers, and the word rattles through Yuri’s brain a bit before he processes it.

“Cold,” he decides.

“I can fix that,” Victor brings the vibrator to his own lips and licks, slow, eyes never leaving Yuri’s. Then the head of the vibrator disappears between his plush, pink lips and Yuri hears himself gasp.

Victor doesn't say anything, just smiles around the silicone toy that Yuri is suddenly a lot more excited about having on him, in him, than he was just a few moments ago. The toy is pulled from Victor’s mouth with a small  _ pop _ , and it touches, warm and slick at Yuri’s pulsing dick.

“Yes,  _ please _ ,” he says, entirely unprompted, and Victor smiles and obliges him.

It whirrs to life and his back arcs upward, making the ropes dig in tighter around his middle. Liquid heat pours through his veins, bubbling behind his eyelids. His first orgasm takes him by surprise, shakes through his splayed legs, wrings through his toes and fingers. Victor’s hand glides firm down his torso, over the little bumps of the rope, keeping him grounded as he kicks the vibrator up a notch. He wants to wiggle out of his skin, wants to  _ bite something _ , but the hot point of Victor’s hand settles him, even as he yells Victor’s name.

“ _ Too much _ ” is just at the tip of Yuri’s tongue when Victor moves the vibrator to drift along the tingly skin of his inner thigh, over his stretched abdomen. And Yuri relaxes into the feeling, the tickling of the vibrator feeling almost like an extension of the aftershocks of his release.

“Are you alright for more, love?” Victor murmurs, his free hand petting gently at Yuri’s side as if he were made of spun glass and not strong enough to rip their couch apart with his bare hands.

Yuri feels like warm putty, isn't ready to have Victor's hands off of him yet, so he smiles and says “Yes, please.”

Victor’s pupils are blown out when he opens his eyes again, ocean blue reduced to small slivers of color. “What a good boy,” he whispers, and those words sink into Yuri’s bones like steam off a hot bath, coil tight in his gut as if he didn't just come. His whine is involuntary, small, from the back of his throat. His fingers twitch in the aborted need for Victor to be closer, closer.

Then, as if reading his mind, Victor’s in Yuri’s space, bodies pressed together, that beautiful neck so close to Yuri’s lips, he can almost taste it. 

Victor takes Yuri’s ear between his lips and nips, sharp teeth grazing the soft skin of his lobe. “What does my Yuri want?” He keeps his voice low, and a shiver makes its way down Yuri’s spine. With Victor’s body over his like this, Yuri realizes his hands are in the perfect position to press up against Victor’s cock, so he does. He can feel Victor’s every bump and ridge through the thin material of his underwear and it makes his fingertips buzz.

A sharp breath by Yuri’s ear and Victor rocks into his exploring fingers once, twice. “You want it?”

Yuri nods frantically, nearly knocking their heads together. Victor’s bikini briefs are off in one fluid motion, the cap of a lube bottle Yuri had all but forgotten about pops open, vanilla briefly tickling his nose. Victor rubs the slick around in his hands a bit, and his fingers are pleasantly warm when they glide to the pucker of Yuri’s ass.

Even as Yuri eggs him on, “faster, more,  _ please _ ,” Victor stretches him slow and steady. He presses soothing kisses into Yuri’s cheeks, the sides of his neck, soft over his lips. And Yuri lets himself be distracted, feel utterly safe and loved. Victor’s worked three fingers into him and is asking for permission again and it takes Yuri a moment to process why Victor’s stopped moving.

“Yes,” he whispers, this time finding the silky warm flesh of Victor’s cock when he presses his fingers upward, “yesyesyes, Victor.”

Victor smiles and kisses him again. Another whiff of vanilla, Victor’s hand between them moving over his own cock. Then heat, sliding against the line of his ass, pressing in, so slow. Yuri can't do anything to speed him up, can't shimmy down to take him in the way he wants. He can only wait and writhe as Victor moves centimeter by agonizing centimeter into him. A finger teases his cock, and Yuri can't tell if it's an apology for his pace or if it's to keep him shivering under the ropes, keep his breath ragged. If it's the latter, it's working.

Finally, he feels that almost-too-full feeling, the light press of Victor’s balls, hips flush against his ass. Victor’s movements are minimal, small pulses that do little more than seat him more snugly inside at an angle Yuri likes. Then he's leaning over, lips smearing wet over Yuri’s cheeks, over his open, panting mouth, against the shell of his ear. His fingers move more insistently against Yuri’s cock, slick and warm and every time Yuri’s shivers, he feels Victor’s cock twitch inside him.

“Bite me, Yuri,” Victor’s voice is higher, needier now, hips twitching against Yuri’s ass. He's on the edge, Yuri can tell, and he wants nothing more than to  _ feel _ Victor come, he tries to tell him as much but he knows it comes out a little breathy, a little broken.

But Victor understands, “Anything Yuri, everything.” He takes Yuri’s mouth in a brief, messy kiss before cradling Yuri’s head and raising it up so his lips press against Victor’s neck.

Bone-deep ache throbs through Yuri’s gums and roars up to meet the raw need burning in his core, the edge he’s once again oh so close to. His teeth sink into Victor’s skin and it feels like drinking fire, it feels like coming home. Victor’s hand, gentle at the back of his head, Victor’s voice, babbling Yuri’s name as if all other language has fallen away, has lost relevance. Dimly, he realizes Victor is coming inside him. He's flooded and filled in every way with  _ Victor _ , warmth flowing to his extremities, heating his face, forcing his heart rate to quicken. He moans but hears Victor’s voice instead of his own, wordless and lovely. They're on a loop, connected as they can be, and Yuri’s not sure where he ends and where Victor begins. Yuri’s second orgasm shakes through them but it feels far away, like background noise in comparison to Victor’s pulse on his tongue.

They stay that way, connected, long after they've finished coming and drinking. Victor stays nestled safely inside Yuri’s ass, soft and warm, and Yuri lets his mouth stay loosely clamped over Victor’s neck, tongue pressing against the already healed-over puncture wounds from his fangs.

Eventually, the burning stretch in Yuri’s muscles takes a turn for the unpleasant, and they disentangle. Victor slowly unburdens Yuri’s body of the ropes: first legs, untied and ever so carefully stretched out across the bed, then his arms, his torso. Loving fingers massage a pleasant smelling oil into his muscles, paying special attention to cramping thighs and biceps. Yuri watches him work with a lazy smile, still finds it wondrous, the way each irritated red line dissipates from his skin as Victor’s fingers move over it, encouraging the fresh blood in him to flow and heal. A wet washcloth is pressed between his legs at some point, then between his fingers.

Something small and overwhelmingly needy starts swirling in his chest when Victor gets up to put away some of the supplies, a feeling not unlike panic making his fingers twitchy. But then Victor is back, kissing his forehead and whispering lovely things that Yuri doesn't quite register and pulling him into the circle of his arms. Yuri’s own arms twine firmly around Victor’s middle, pressing them close together so he can feel the rise and fall of Victor’s chest as he breathes, and the thing in his chest settles. He's boneless again, and in the quiet, he whispers, “Love you, Victor.”

Victor smiles against his forehead, and Yuri can feel the tip of his nose nuzzling into his hair. “And I love you, my sleeping beauty.” Yuri giggles and drifts to sleep counting Victor’s breaths.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
